Demon's Gambit
by ardavenport
Summary: Mac desperately needs help from his friend, Pete, when the secret to his success goes awry.


**DEMON'S GAMBIT**

by ardavenport

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><p>MacGyver raced into the secret offices like a man hunted. He was...<p>

The security operative waved him on. She hardly looked up from her tasks. She knew that he wouldn't have gotten as far as the office door if he weren't really MacGyver, and 'Mac' wouldn't be there unless he had something important to report.

"Hey, Mac!" His old pal, Pete Thornton, greeted him from his desk. Then he noticed the urgency of MacGyver's stance and his tone changed to one of worry. "What's wrong?"

MacGyver pulled up a chair and sat on the other side of the desk.

"I need an assignment," he told Pete seriously.

"What?"

"I need an assignment. Anything. Just as long as it's impossible."

"Mac, I don't have anything."

"Oh, come on, Pete! You always have something . . . Blackmail, daring rescues, mayhem, I don't care. I need it."

"I'm telling you, Mac, I don't have anything. And if I did I probably wouldn't give it to you anyway. Not in the state you're in."

MacGyver's panic melted into surprise, then anger.

"Oh, thanks, Pete! I guess our friendship doesn't count for much when I need something. It's just what I can do for you guys . . . " He started to rise.

"Wait, Mac!" Pete also rose. "I think I have something," he lied when Mac headed for the door. MacGyver paused suspiciously.

"What?" he asked.

"Well, we can't discuss it at opposite ends of the room. Take a seat," Pete urged. MacGyver warily returned to his chair.

"What have you got?" MacGyver asked cautiously.

Pete sat back down and faced Mac. "It's a tough one."

"The tougher the better. I want something impossible," MacGyver assured him.

Pete leaned forward. "Your assignment, MacGyver, is to tell me what's going on."

"Pete!" MacGyver started to rise again. Pete reached out to his friend.

"No, wait Mac. You just accused me of being one-sided and I don't like it. Look at you! You look like you've been sleeping in your clothes. You haven't shaved. You look like a _Miami Vice_ commercial. Now, you're obviously in trouble and I want to help."

MacGyver sat back down, deflated. "You can't help, Pete," he muttered.

"I can't do anything if you don't tell me what's going on." Worried by his friend's uncharacteristic defeatism, he prodded Mac into telling him the problem. Pete's concern, surprise, and then shock grew as each chapter unfolded in MacGyver's grim tale.

"You sold your soul to Maxwell's Demon?" Pete finally exclaimed.

"Yeah, I guess that about covers it." MacGyver hung his head guiltily.

"But why?" Pete demanded, still shocked.

"Oh, I don't know, Pete. I've been asking myself that question every morning for the last fifteen years. It was just one of those stupid mistakes of youth, I guess."

"But you didn't need to do something like that!"

"Oh, sure I didn't. Young child genius enters college at fifteen. He's so smart, everything comes easy, the first time he comes across anything he can't handle he falls to pieces."

"What was it?"

"Computer programming," Mac mumbled.

"What? How could you have problems with something like that? Six year old kids program computers."

"Not fifteen years ago, Pete. Back then it was still kind of new. Advanced math, quantum mechanics, they came pretty easy, but when it got to computers the bottom seemed to drop out. Nothing ever worked, there was always something going wrong with my programs."

"I still can't believe it. How could you choke up on something so simple?"

"Have you ever programmed a computer, Pete?" MacGyver demanded angrily.

"No," he admitted. "So, what did you get in return for your soul?"

"What else? Exemption from Murphy's Law."

"What could you do with that?"

MacGyver was appalled by Pete's naivete. "Everything I do needs that exemption. You don't think I could make bombs out of toasters or those quick-fix gadgets without some kind of help . . ."

"I've just thought you were very inventive."

"I _am_ very inventive, Pete. But I couldn't pull off all those miracles on the first try without having the odds fixed in my favor."

"You got all those favors in exchange for your soul and now your contract has run out. So, why did you want an assignment?"

"Because there's an escape clause. I can get an exemption and keep my soul for the rest of my life if I can come up with something that I can't do. But I can't do it alone . . . Somebody has to ask me." MacGyver's voice had taken on a hopeful tone.

"Wait a minute!" Pete needed to pause. If anybody else had come to him telling him that he'd sold his soul to Maxwell's Demon, he'd have had the man committed. But MacGyver was a very special case. Mac wasn't inclined toward fantasies and he was totally reliable. And the story fit well as an explanation for MacGyver's unprecedented record.

Mac was known to be able to pick locks with rubber bands, break out of prisons with his shoelaces, and build anti-tank weapons out of washing machines and other ridiculous things. The idea that he was getting supernatural help to accomplish these feats made a queer sort of sense. And Pete had heard rumors . . . about computer geniuses and scientists who had sold themselves to some higher authority to achieve their success.

"Alright, let's look at this objectively. You had a fifteen year contract with - - "

"Fifty," MacGyver stated.

"Fifty? Then what are you doing here? You've still got thirty-five years!"

"I've got until noon today." MacGyver hung his head again and then went on. "There was another clause in the contract about 'Extraordinary Measures and Tasks' i.e.: if I save the world my contract automatically concludes."

"You mean that business last week with the Polish ant farm?"

"I got the notice a few days ago." MacGyver dug out a crumpled piece of parchment from his back pocket and handed it over. Pete barely had a chance to examine the formal declaration that MacGyver's soul was due when the Demon made his appearance.

There was an audible 'POOF!' and the smell of new car upholstery filled the room. MacGyver had explained that the Demon preferred to take on the form of famous and eccentric people but Pete was still appalled. The Demon smiled benevolently, resplendent in his rhinestone tuxedo. The picture of evil demeanor, the Liberace-clone waved a jewel-encrusted swagger stick in MacGyver's direction.

"I hope you have all of your affairs in order. I don't like to be kept waiting."

"It's only ten o'clock! I've still got two more hours!" MacGyver objected.

The Demon sighed. "Oh. come on! You don't think you can come up with something now, do you? You might as well give up now and we can get this whole business over with."

"What are you going to do with him?" Pete demanded.

"Why, he's going to atone for his sins, of course! He's going to experience all those mistakes I've carefully prevented from happening," the Demon explained. He carefully examined his nails and picked a piece of lint from his lapel. "All at once, of course . . ."

"But you'll kill him!"

The Demon laughed airily. "No, he's no use to me that way. It'll only break his mind. After that he'll be a perfect little slave to my needs. In perpetuity."

"What do you need a slave for? You've obviously got powers we've never even imagined. What would you need any slaves for?" Pete questioned, wondering if he could talk the Demon into letting MacGyver go.

"My dear man, it takes lots and lots of little people to do all the really degrading work to allow me to be so magnificent. It's taken a long time for me to rise to my proper level, but the world is growing and I'm constantly needing to increase my workforce to just keep up with it all. It takes a lot to run a Cosmos."

"You're sick," MacGyver muttered.

"Oh, quite possibly. I suppose this job does that to people." He held the swagger stick up under MacGyver's chin, forcing him to look him in the eye. "But you are coming with me. I don't intend to take on your debt myself. The mortgage is due. You can come now and make it easy for yourself, or do it the hard way and wait until the last possible minute. Either way, you . . . are . . . mine!"

"Pete?" MacGyver pleaded.

"Wait!" Pete held up a restraining hand. "There's still time on MacGyver's contract and if I ask him to do something that he can't accomplish, you have to let him go."

"Yes, but that doesn't count anything that violates any established physical laws. There must be a finite probability that he could accomplish it, or there must at least be some precedent for it. And he's not allowed to fail on purpose."

"All right," Pete agreed.

MacGyver looked almost hopeful. "Have you got something?"

"Yes, I do." Pete used his most officious tone. "Have a seat, Mac."

The Demon sighed, just a little exasperated.

"Now, before I give you this assignments" Pete continued, "I want a firm agreement from you."

"Anything, Pete, I'm looking down the barrel of a loaded gun!"

"If I get you out of this, Mac, I want you to work for me full time. None of this part-time commission crap." Pete pointed a serious and authoritative finger at MacGyver's nose. "I want you in the office, in a suit and tie when I need it, nine to five and overtime until you retire. I want you on full salary, health and pension plan, the works. I still want you to do the same kind of work for me, but I want to be able to keep track of you."

MacGyver shuddered at the thought but one glance at the Demon reassured him that the alternative was infinitely worse.

"Done," he agreed.

Pete nodded. "Okay. Now I can ask Mac here for one last mission, right?"

"If you must," the Demon agreed.

"What I want you to do, Mac . . ." Pete paused for dramatic effect. " . . . is to get out of fulfilling your part of your contract with Maxwell's Demon here and still keep your exemption." he concluded confidently.

His words had no immediate effect on MacGyver; he was still too surprised. But the Demon's reaction was satisfyingly prompt. His face literally turned red, his well-oiled hair smoked, and sparkling rhinestones burst away from his smouldering tux. He writhed and futilely clawed the air before shrinking into a single charred remain that hung momentarily in mid-air before disappearing in a crackling burst of flame. The resulting locker room smell quickly faded, leaving no trace that the Demon had ever been there. He didn't even leave a stain on the carpet.

MacGyver relaxed, hardly able to believe his good fortune. Pete wiped his brow with a handkerchief.

"That was brilliant Pete!" Mac exclaimed.

"I wasn't sure it would work, myself. It all depended on whether or not he'd let anybody out of their contract before. I guess he has."

Mac shook his head. "I don't care how or why right now."

They exchanged a few more exclamations of relief before Pete got down to business. He reached down to a lower drawer and pulled out personal history forms, W4 forms, security forms, payroll forms, insurance applications, expense account authorizations, all the things that a new employee needed to fill out. MacGyver's relief changed to dread. He wondered if he hadn't just exchanged one Demon for another.

With a flourish, Pete picked out a fresh pen and smoothed the paper of the form on the top of the stack. Pen at ready, he looked up at MacGyver.

"Okay, Mac, first name . . . ?"

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><p><strong>O==O==O==O THE END O==O==O==O<strong>

**Author's Note:** This story was first published under the name, 'Anne Davenport' in the general fanfic zine (we're talking hardcopy and snail-mail) _Xenozine: Episode III_, (editor: D.J. Driscoll) in the mid 1980's.

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Henry Winkler/John Rich Productions, Paramount Television and whoever else owns the 1980's TV show MacGyver; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


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